Soul of the Fire

Chapter 11

When Richard started, it woke her. Kahlan, her back pressed up against him, wiped her hair from her eyes, hastily trying to gather her senses. Richard sat up, leaving a cold breach where he had been a warm presence. Someone knocked insistently.

“Lord Rahl,” came a muffled voice. “Lord Rahl.” It hadn’t been a dream; Cara was banging on the door. Richard danced into his pants as he rushed to answer her knock.

Daylight barged in. “What is it, Cara?”

“The healer woman sent me to get you. Zedd and Ann are sick. I couldn’t understand her words, but I knew she wanted me to go for you.”

Richard snatched up his boots. “How sick?”

“By the healer woman’s behavior, I don’t think it’s serious, but I don’t know about such things. I thought you would want to see for yourself.”

“Of course. Yes. We’ll be right out.” Kahlan was already pulling on her clothes. They were still damp, but at least they weren’t dripping wet. “What do you think it could be?”

Richard drew down his black sleeveless undershirt. “I’ve no idea.”

Disregarding the rest of his outfit, he buckled on his broad belt with the gold-worked pouches and started for the door. He never left the things inside it unguarded. They were too dangerous. He glanced back to see if she was with him. Hopping to keep her balance, Kahlan tugged on her stiff boots.

“I meant, do you think it could be the magic? Something wrong with it? Because of the Lurk business?”

“Let’s not give our fears a head start. We’ll know soon enough.”

As they charged through the door, Cara took up and matched their stride. The morning was blustery and wet, with a thick drizzle. Leaden clouds promised a miserable day. At least it wasn’t pouring rain.

Cara’s long blond braid looked as if she’d left it done up wet all night. It hung heavy and limp, but Kahlan knew it looked better than her own matted locks.

In contrast, Cara’s red leather outfit looked to have been freshly cleaned. Their red leather was a point of pride for Mord-Sith. Like a red flag, it announced to all the presence of a Mord-Sith; few words could convey the menace as effectively.

The supple leather must have been treated with oils or wool fat, by the way water beaded and ran from it. Kahlan always imagined that, as tight as it was, Mord-Sith didn’t undress so much as they shed their skin of leather.

As they hurried down a passageway, Cara gave them an accusing glare. “You two had an adventure last night.”

By the way her jaw muscles flexed, it was easy enough to tell that Cara wasn’t pleased to have been left to sleep while they struck out alone like helpless fawns to see if they could put themselves in grave danger of some sort for no good reason whatsoever.

“I found the chicken that wasn’t a chicken,” Kahlan said.

She and Richard had been exhausted as they had trudged back to the spirit house through the dark, the mud, and the rain, and had spoken only briefly about it. When she asked, he told her he was looking for the chicken thing when he heard her voice coming from the place where Juni’s body lay. She expected him to say something about her lack of faith in him, but he didn’t.

She told him she was sorry for giving him a rough day, inasmuch as she hadn’t believed him. He said only that he thanked the good spirits for watching over her. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. Somehow, she thought she would have felt better had he instead reproved her.

Dead tired, they crawled beneath their blankets. Weary as she was, Kahlan was sure she would be awake the remainder of the night with the frightful memories of the incarnate evil she felt from the chicken-thing, but with Richard’s warm and reassuring hand on her shoulder, she had fallen asleep in mere moments.

“No one has yet explained to me how you can tell this chicken is not a chicken,” Cara complained as they rounded a corner.

“I can’t explain it,” Richard said. “There was just something about it that wasn’t right. A feeling. It made the hairs at the back of my neck stand on end when it was near.”

“If you’d been there,” Kahlan said, “you’d understand. When it looked at me, I could see the evil in its eyes.”

Cara grunted her skepticism. “Maybe it needed to lay an egg.”

“It addressed me by my title.”

“Ah. Now that would tip me off, too.” Cara’s voice turned more serious, if not troubled. “It really called you ‘Mother Confessor’?”

Kahlan nodded to the genuine anxiety creeping onto Cara’s face. “Well, actually, it started to, but only spoke the Mother part. I didn’t wait politely to hear it finish the rest.”

As the three of them filed in the door, Nissel rose from the buckskin hide on the floor before the small hearth. She was heating a pot of aromatic herbs above the small fire. A stack of tava bread sat close beside the hearth on the shelf, where it would stay warm. She smiled that odd little something-only-she-knew smile of hers.

“Mother Confessor. Good morning. Have you slept well?”

“Yes, thank you. Nissel, what’s wrong with Zedd and Ann?”

Nissel’s smile vanished as she glanced at the heavy hide hanging over the doorway to the room in the rear. “I am not sure.”

“Well then what’s ailing them?” Richard demanded when Kahlan translated. “How are they sick? Fever? Stomach? Head? What?” He threw up his arms. “Have their heads come off their shoulders?”

Nissel held Richard’s gaze as Kahlan asked his questions. Her odd little smile returned. “He is impatient, your new husband.”

“He is worried for his grandfather. He has great love for his elder. So, do you know what could be wrong with them?”

Nissel turned briefly to give the pot a stir. The old healer had curious, even puzzling ways about her, like the way she mumbled to herself while she worked, or had a person balance stones on their stomach to distract them while she stitched a wound, but Kahlan also knew she possessed a sharp mind and was nearly peerless at what she did. There was a long lifetime of experience and vast knowledge in the hunched old woman.

With one hand, Nissel drew closed her simple shawl and at last squatted down before the Grace still drawn in the dirt in the center of the floor. She reached out and slowly traced a crooked finger along one of the straight lines radiating out from the center—the line representing magic.

“This, I think.”

Kahlan and Richard shared a troubled look.

“You could probably find out a lot quicker,” Cara said, “if you would just go in there and have a look for yourself.”

Richard shot Cara a glower. “We wanted to know what to expect, if that’s all right with you.”

Kahlan relaxed a bit. Cara would never be irreverent about something this important to them if she really believed it might be life or death battling beyond the hide curtain. Still, Cara knew little about magic, except that she didn’t like it.

Cara, like the fierce D’Haran soldiers, feared magic. They were forever repeating the invocation that they were the steel against steel, while Lord Rahl was meant to be the magic against magic. It was part of the D’Haran people’s bond to their Lord Rahl: they protected him, he protected them. It was almost as if they believed their duty was to protect his body so that in return he could protect their souls.

The paradox was that the unique bond between Mord-Sith and their Lord Rahl was a symbiotic relationship giving power to the Agiel—the staggering instrument of torture a Mord-Sith wore at her wrist—and, more important, that because of the ancient link to their Lord Rahl, Mord-Sith were able to usurp the magic of one gifted. Until Richard freed them, the purpose of Mord-Sith was not just to protect their Lord Rahl, but to torture to death his enemies who possessed magic, and in the process extract any information they had.

Other than the magic of a Confessor, there was no magic able to withstand the ability of a Mord-Sith to appropriate it. As much as Mord-Sith feared magic, those with magic had more to fear from Mord-Sith. But then, people always told Kahlan that snakes were more afraid of her than she was of them.

Clasping her hands behind her back and planting her feet, Cara took up her station. Kahlan ducked through the doorway as Richard held the hide curtain aside for her.

Candles lit the windowless room beyond. Magical designs dappled the dirt floor. Kahlan knew they were not practice symbols, as the Grace in the outer room had been. These were drawn in blood.

Kahlan caught the crook of Richard’s arm. “Careful. Don’t step on any of these.” She held out her other hand to the symbols on the floor. “They’re meant to lure and snare the unwary.”

Richard nodded as he moved deeper into the room, weaving his way through the maze of ethereal devices. Zedd and Ann lay head to head on narrow grass-stuffed pallets against the far wall. Both were covered up to their chins with coarse woolen blankets.

“Zedd,” Richard whispered as he sank to a knee, “are you awake?”

Kahlan knelt beside Richard, taking his hand as they sat back on their heels. As Ann’s eyes blinked open and she looked up, Kahlan took her hand, too. Zedd frowned, as if exposing his eyes to even the mellow candlelight hurt. “There you are, Richard. Good. We need to have a talk.”

“What’s the matter? Are you sick? What can we do to help?”

Zedd’s wavy white hair looked more disheveled than usual. In the dim light his wrinkles weren’t so distinct, but he somehow still looked a very old man at that moment.

“Ann and I . . . are just feeling a little tired out, that’s all. We’ve been . . .”

He brought a hand out from under the blanket and gestured at the garden of designs sown across the floor. Cara’s leather was tighter than the skin stretched over his bones.

“Tell him,” Ann said into the dragging silence, “or I will.”

“Tell me what? What’s going on?”

Zedd rested his bony hand on Richard’s muscular thigh and took a few labored breaths.

“You know that talk we had? Our ‘what if’ talk . . . about magic going away?”

“Of course.”

“It’s begun.”

Richard’s eyes widened. “It is the chimes, then.”

“No,” Ann said. “The Sisters of the Dark.” She wiped sweat from her eyes. “In conjuring a spell to bring the . . . the chicken-thing . . .”

“The Lurk,” Zedd said, helping her. “In conjuring the Lurk, they have either intentionally or accidentally begun a runaway degeneration of magic.”

“It wouldn’t be accidental,” Richard said. “They would intend this. At least Jagang would, and the Sisters of the Dark do his bidding.”

Zedd nodded, letting his eyes close. “I’m sure you’re right, my boy.”

“You weren’t able to stop it, then?” Kahlan asked. “You made it sound as if you would be able to counter it.”

“The verification webs we cast have cost us dearly.” Ann sounded as bitter as Kahlan would have been in her place. “Used up our strength.”

Zedd lifted his arm, and then let it flop back down to rest again on Richard’s thigh. “Because of who we are, because we have more power and ability than others, the taint of this atrophy is affecting us first.”

Kahlan frowned. “You said it would start with the weakest.”

Ann simply rolled her head from side to side.

“Why isn’t it affecting us?” Richard asked. “Kahlan has a lot of magic—with her Confessor power. And I have the gift.”

Zedd lifted his hand to give a sickly wave. “No, no. Not the way it works. It starts with us. With me, more than Ann.”

“Don’t mislead them,” Ann said. “This is too important.” Her voice gathered a little strength as she went on. “Richard, Kahlan’s power will soon fail. So will yours, though you don’t depend on it as do we, or she, so it won’t matter so much to you.”

“Kahlan will lose her Confessor’s power,” Zedd confirmed, “as will everyone of magic. Every thing of magic. She will be defenseless and must be protected.”

“I’m hardly defenseless,” Kahlan objected.

“But there has to be a way for you to counter it. You said last night that you were not without resources of your own.” Richard’s fists tightened. “You said you could counter it. You must be able to do something!”

Ann lifted an arm to weakly whack at the top of Zedd’s head. “Would you please tell him, old man? Before you give the boy apoplexy and he is of no help to us?”

Richard leaned forward. “I can help? What can I do? Tell me and I’ll do it.”

Zedd managed a feeble smile. “I always could count on you, Richard. Always could.”

“What can we do?” Kahlan asked. “You can count on us both.”

“You see, we know what to do, but we can’t manage it alone.”

“Then we’ll help you,” Richard insisted. “What do you need?”

Zedd struggled to take a breath. “In the Keep.”

Kahlan felt a surge of hope. The sliph would spare them weeks of travel over land. In the sliph she and Richard could get to the Keep in less than a day.

Seeming nearly insensate, Zedd’s breath wheezed out. In frustration, Richard pressed his own temples between thumb and second finger of one hand. He took a deep breath. He dropped the hand to Zedd’s shoulder and jostled gently.

“Zedd? What is it we can do to help? What about the Wizard’s Keep? What’s in the Keep?”

The old wizard swallowed lethargically. “In the Keep. Yes.”

Richard took another shaky breath, trying to preserve calm and reassurance in his own voice. “All right. In the Keep. I understand that much. What is it you need to tell me about the Keep, Zedd?”

Zedd’s tongue worked at wetting the roof of his mouth.

“Water.”

Kahlan put a hand on Richard’s shoulder, almost as if to keep him from springing up and bouncing off the ceiling. “I’ll get it.”

Nissel met her at the doorway but instead of the water Kahlan requested, handed her a warm cup. “Give him this. I have just finished making it. It is better than water. It will give him strength.”

“Thank you, Nissel.”

Kahlan hurried the cup to Zedd’s lips. He gulped a few swallows. Kahlan offered the cup to Ann, and she finished it. Nissel leaned over Kahlan’s shoulder to hand her a piece of tava bread spread with something that looked like honey and carried a faint smell; of mint, as if laced with a curative. Nissel whispered to Kahlan to get them to eat some.

“Here, Zedd,” Kahlan said, “have a bite of tava with honey.”

Holding up his hand, Zedd blocked the proffered food from his mouth. “Maybe later.”

Kahlan and Richard glanced at each other out of the corner of their eyes. It was nearly unheard of for Zedd to refuse food. Cara must have taken her belief that it wasn’t serious from the calm Nissel. While the old healer seemed unruffled by the condition of the two on the floor, Richard and Kahlan’s concern was mounting by the moment.

“Zedd,” Richard prompted, now that his grandfather had had a drink, “what about the Keep?”

Zedd opened his eyes. Kahlan thought them a bit brighter, the hazel color more limpid, less cloudy. He sluggishly grasped Richard’s wrist.

“I think the tea is helping. More.”

Kahlan twisted to the old woman. “He says the tea is helping. He would like more.”

Pulling her head back, Nissel made a face. “Of course it helps. Why does he think I make it?”

She shook her head at such foolishness and shuffled off to the outer room to retrieve more tea. Kahlan was sure it wasn’t her imagination that Zedd seemed just the tiniest bit more alert.

“Listen closely, my boy.” He lifted a finger for emphasis. “In the Keep, there is a spell of great power. A sort of bottled antidote to the taint wafting through the world of life.”

“And you need it?” Richard guessed.

Ann, too, looked to have been helped by the tea. “We tried to cast the counterspells, but our power has already deteriorated too much. We did not discover what was happening soon enough.”

“But the vaporous spell in that bottle will do to the taint as the taint does to us,” Zedd drawled.

“And thereby equalize the power so you can cast the counterspell and eliminate it,” Richard impatiently finished in a rush.

“Yes,” Zedd and Ann said as one.

Kahlan smiled eagerly. “It’s not a problem, then. We can get the bottle for you.”

Richard grinned his zeal. “We can get to the Keep through the sliph. We can retrieve this bottled spell of yours and be back with it in no time, almost.”

Ann covered her eyes with a hand as she muttered a curse. “Zedd, did you never teach this boy anything?”

Richard’s grin gave out. “Why? What’s wrong with that?”

Nissel shuffled in carrying two clay cups of tea. She handed one to Kahlan and one to Richard. “Make them drink it all.”

“Nissel says you must drink this down,” Kahlan told them.

Ann sipped when Kahlan held the cup to her lips. Zedd wrinkled his nose, but then had to start swallowing as Richard poured the tea down his grandfather’s gullet. Balking and coughing, he was forced to gulp it all or drown.

“Now, what’s the problem with us getting this spell thing from the Keep?” Richard asked as his grandfather caught his breath.

“First of all,” Zedd managed between gasps, “you don’t need to bring it here. You must only break the bottle. The spell will be released. It doesn’t need direction—it’s already created.”

Richard was nodding. “I can break a bottle. I’ll break it.”

“Listen. It’s in a bottle designed to protect the magic. It will only be released if it’s broken properly—with an object possessing the correct magic. Otherwise, it will simply evaporate without helping.”

“What object? How do I break the bottle correctly?”

“The Sword of Truth,” Zedd said. “It has the proper magic to release the spell intact as it breaches the container.”

“That’s not a problem. I left the sword in your private enclave in the Keep. But won’t the sword’s magic fail, too?”

“No. The Sword of Truth was created by wizards with the knowledge to ward its power from assaults against its magic.”

“So you think the Sword of Truth will stop a Lurk?”

Zedd nodded. “Much of this matter is unknown to me, but I strongly believe this: The Sword of Truth may be the only thing with the power to protect you.” Zedd’s fingers gripped Richard’s undershirt, pulling him close. “You must retrieve the sword.”

His eyes brightened when Richard nodded earnestly. Zedd tried to push himself up on an elbow, but Richard pressed a big hand to the old man’s chest, forcing him to lie down.

“Rest. You can get up after you rest. Now, where is this bottle with the spell.”

Zedd frowned at something and pointed behind Richard and Kahlan. They both turned to look. When they didn’t see anything but Cara watching from the doorway, they turned back to see Zedd up on the elbow. He smiled at his little triumph. Richard scowled.

“Now, listen carefully, my boy. You said you got into the First Wizard’s private enclave?” Richard’s head bobbed as Zedd talked. “And you remember the place?” Richard was still nodding. “Good. There is an entrance. A long walk between things.”

“Yes, I remember. The long entryway has a red carpet down the middle. To each side are white marble columns about as tall as me. There are different things atop each. At the end—”

“Yes,” Zedd held up a hand, as if to stop him. “The white marble columns. You remember them? The things atop them?”

“Some. Not every one. There were gems in brooches, gold chains, a silver chalice, finely wrought knives, bowls, boxes.” Richard paused with a frown of effort at recollection. He snapped his fingers. “Fifth column on the left has a bottle atop it. I remember because I thought it was pretty. An inky black bottle with a gold filigree stopper.”

A sly smile stole onto the Zedd’s face. “Quite right, my boy. That’s the bottle.”

“What do I do? Just break it with the Sword of Truth?”

“Just break it.”

“Nothing fancy? No incantations? No placing it some certain place some certain way? No waiting for the right moon? No special time of day or night? No turning round first? Nothing fancy?”

“Nothing fancy. Just break it with the sword. If it were me, I’d carefully set it on the floor, just in case my aim was bad and I knocked it off without breaking the glass and it fell to the marble to break there. But that’s me.”

“The floor it is, then. I’ll set it on the floor and smash it with the sword.” Richard started to rise. “It will be done before dawn breaks tomorrow.”

Zedd caught Richard’s hand and urged him back down. “No, Richard, you can’t.” He flopped back, sighing unhappily.

“Can’t what?” Richard asked as he leaned close once more.

Zedd took a few breaths. “Can’t go in that sliph thing of yours.”

“But we have to,” Richard insisted. “It will get us there in less than a day. Over land would take . . . I don’t know. Weeks.”

The old wizard lifted a grim finger toward Richard’s face. “The sliph uses magic. If you go in the sliph, you will die before you reach Aydindril. You will be in the dark recesses of that quicksilver creature, breathing her magic, when that magic fails. You will drown. No one will ever find your body.”

Richard licked his lips. He raked his fingers back through his hair. “Are you sure? Might I be able to make it before the magic fails? Zedd, this is important. If there is some risk, then we must take it. I’ll go alone. I’ll leave Kahlan and Cara.”

Alarm swelled in Kahlan’s chest at the idea of Richard being in the sliph, and having its magic fail. Of him drowning in the dark forever of the sliph. She clutched at his arm to protest, but Zedd spoke first.

“Richard, listen to me. I am First Wizard. I am telling you: Magic is failing. If you go in the sliph, you will die. Not maybe. Will. All magic is failing. You must go without magic.”

Richard pressed his lips tight and nodded. “All right, then. If we must, then we must. It will take longer, though. How long can you and Ann . . . ?”

Zedd smiled. “Richard, we are too weak to travel or we would go with you now, but we will be fine. We would only slow you for no good reason. You can accomplish what must be done. As soon as you break the bottle and release the spell, then these things here”—he gestured to the spells drawn all over the floor—“will let us know. Once they do, I can cast the counterspells.

“Until then, the Wizard’s Keep will be vulnerable. Extraordinarily powerful and dangerous things could be stolen when the Keep’s shields of magic fail. After I restore magic’s power, anything stolen could then be used against us.”

“Do you know how much of the Keep’s magic will fail?”

Zedd shook his head in frustration. “This is without precedent. I can’t predict the exact sequences, but I’m sure all will fail. We need you to stay at the Keep and protect it as you planned. Ann and I will follow after this business is finished. We’re counting on you. Can you do that for me, my boy?”

Richard, his eyes glistening, nodded. He took up his grandfather’s hand. “Of course. You can count on me.”

“Promise me, Richard. Promise me you will go to the Keep.”

“I promise.”

“If you don’t,” Ann warned in a low voice, “Zedd’s optimism about his being fine may prove . . . flawed.”

Zedd’s brow tightened. “Ann, you are making it sound—”

“If I am not telling the truth, then call me a liar.”

Zedd rested the back of his wrist over his eyes and remained silent. Ann tilted her head back enough to meet Richard’s gaze.

“Am I making myself clear?”

He swallowed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Zedd reached out for the comfort of Richard’s hand. “This is important, Richard, but don’t break your neck getting there.”

Richard smiled. “I understand. A swift journey, not impetuous reckless haste, is more likely to get you to your destination.”

Zedd managed a low chuckle. “So you did listen when you were younger.”

“Always.”

“Then listen now.” The sticklike finger once more lifted from his slack fist. “You must not use fire, if you can avoid it at all. The Lurk could find you by fire.”

“How?”

“We believe the spell can seek by fire’s light. It was sent for you, so it can search for you with fire. Keep away from fire.

“Water, too. If you must ford a river, use a bridge if at all possible, even if you must go days out of your way. Cross streams on a log, or swing over on a rope, or jump, if you can.”

“You mean to say we risk ending up like Juni, if we go near water?”

Zedd nodded. “I’m sorry to make it more difficult for you, but this is perilous business. The Lurk is trying to get you. You will only be safe—all of us will only be safe—if you can get to the Keep and break that bottle before the Lurk finds you.”

Undaunted, Richard smiled. “We’ll save time—not having to gather firewood or bathe.”

Zedd again let out the breathy little chuckle. “Safe journey, Richard. And you, too, Cara. Watch over Richard.” His sticklike fingers gripped Kahlan’s hand. “And you too, my new granddaughter. I love you dearly. Keep each other safe and well. I will see you when we reach Aydindril, and we will have the joy of each other’s company again. Wait at the Keep for us.”

Kahlan gathered up his bony hand in both of hers as she sniffled back the tears. “We will. We’ll be there waiting for you. We’ll be a family together, again, when you get there.”

“Safe journey, all,” Ann said. “May the good spirits be with you always. Our faith and prayers will be with you, too.”

Richard nodded his thanks and started to rise, but then paused. He seemed to consider something for a moment. He spoke at last in a soft voice.

“Zedd, all the time I was growing up, I never knew you were my grandfather. I know you did that to protect me, but . . . I never knew.” He fidgeted with a piece of grass sticking out of the pallet. “I never got a chance to hear about my mother’s mother. She almost never spoke of her mother—just a word here and there. I never learned about my grandmother. Your wife.”

Zedd turned his face away as a tear rolled down his cheek. He cleared his throat. “Erilyn was . . . a wonderful woman. Like you have a wonderful wife now, so I once did, too.

“Erilyn was captured by the enemy, by a quad sent by your other grandfather, Panis Rahl, when your mother was very young. Your mother saw it all—what they did to her mother. . . . Erilyn only lived long enough for me to find her. She was already at the brink of death, but I tried to heal her. My magic activated a sinister spell the enemy had hidden in her. My healing touch was what killed her. Because of what she saw, your mother found it painful to speak of Erilyn.”

After an uncomfortable moment, Zedd toned back to them and smiled with a memory of genuine joy. “She was beautiful, with gray eyes, like your mother. Like you. She was as smart as you, and she liked to laugh. You should know that. She liked to laugh.”

Richard smiled. He cleared his throat to find his voice.

“Then she surely married the right person.”

Zedd nodded. “She did. Now, gather your things and be on your way to Aydindril so we can get our magic back to right.

“When we finally join you in Aydindril, I will tell you all the things about Erilyn—your grandmother—that I never could before.” He smiled a grandfather’s smile. “We will talk of family.”